


The Abominable Headaches of Jonathan Sims

by boyewithane



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Headaches & Migraines, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, jon is just in pain that's all that's it, set somewhere in S2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22926688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyewithane/pseuds/boyewithane
Summary: Jon had a headache. There was no way around it, he just did. It was ugly and horrible and it pounded against his head and he couldn’t think, not enough to read any statements or do whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing.Everything hurt. He couldn’t think.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, vaguely - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 250





	The Abominable Headaches of Jonathan Sims

Jon had a headache. There was no way around it, he just did. It was ugly and horrible and it pounded against his head and he couldn’t think, not enough to read any statements or do whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing, not enough to be realize just how long it had been since he first dropped his head down on the table and squeezed his eyes shut, that blissful moment where he let himself hope that maybe, this one would be kind to him, and he wouldn’t feel so awful. But he did, of course he did, his headaches were never kind to him.

He barely registered groaning into the table. He felt his hands come up to press down on his temples, but he couldn’t feel his arms moving. He couldn’t feel anything anymore, it was all pain. Bright and blooming and throbbing against his skull, the kind of headache that made his vision swim with color. Every color was vibrant. Every color hurt. He rubbed his face. He pressed his fingers down on his eyelids, because his eyes hurt now. Of course they did. They always did. Everything hurt. He couldn’t think

He heard someone open the door to his office. Heard the quiet “oh” that came after. He didn’t dare open his eyes to see who it was. Lights hurt even worse. He heard three steps, the sound of a mug being set down on his desk, and could practically feel the hesitation rolling off of Martin. Jon sighed deeply. He didn’t feel like dealing with this right now. He didn’t feel like dealing with anyone right now. He wanted to be home, in his bed, with the lights off, curled up against the pain that turned his brain into mush.

“Jon? Are you alright?” said the voice that definitely belonged to Martin. Jon mumbled something that was trying to sound like “headache.” He didn’t want to deal with the questions. Drink some water? Martin would say, or Have you had enough to eat? Take some painkillers, maybe? He couldn’t think, or move, or do anything without hurting. He couldn’t drink water or eat. He couldn’t do anything. He felt like crying.

Martin shifted around awkwardly. Jon curled a little further into himself. More steps. A gentle, “C’mon, let’s go.” Martin lifting Jon’s arm, Jon too tired to resist. He let himself be lifted out of his chair, eyes still screwed shut to shield against any light that would dare to make his headache worse. He felt his limbs turning to jelly. Martin wrapped an arm around Jon’s waist. Jon leaned heavily into the bigger man, something in his head helpfully supplying that Martin is the perfect size and shape for snuggles and hugs. He shoved that part out.

They walked through the Archives. Jon couldn’t tell where they were going, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t think enough to care. He couldn’t think. He didn’t think. Martin walked. He walked too. He tripped over his feet and felt himself drop. Martin caught him before he could hit the ground. Jon tried to stand again, but he couldn’t quite get his legs to work. Martin caught onto this, apparently, and he shifted them both enough that Martin could get his other arm under Jon’s legs and lift him up. Jon shoved his face into Martin’s chest. He told himself it was to get away from the light. Martin held him a little closer. Jon sighed. Martin murmured something soft.

Martin had brought him to the cot. He laid Jon down gently, and Jon immediately curled up into a ball. Martin muttered something and Jon could hear him walk away. He curled up further into himself. He hurt. He hurt and hurt and hurt and he couldn’t stop hurting. He couldn’t think and he couldn’t feel himself and he was left drifting in space where he could only know pain. Somewhere deep in his mind he wished Martin was here. He curled up tighter, until he could feel his knees digging into his chest.

He didn’t know when he started crying. He just knew that he was sobbing quietly into the pillow that smelled all too faintly of Martin. He remembered when Martin was sleeping here every night, back when the only thing on their minds were the worms that might find their way into the Archives. He turned his head a little, just enough to properly shove his face in the pillow, allowing his legs to drift a little away from his chest. The moving hurt. It sent knives through his head and allowed the ache behind his eyes and in his jaw to start back up. He sobbed.

He heard someone step back in. Martin, probably. He didn’t dare move to look, but his heart still hoped. Why would it hope for Martin? He didn’t know when that started. He didn’t have the strength to think about it right now. Probably-Martin stopped just next to the cot, and placed a gentle hand on Jon’s shoulder Martin’s hand. It was big and warm and soft and reassuring, in a way that was far too kind for Tim and far too present for Sasha. Martin. 

“I brought you some painkillers.” Martin’s voice was soft. Jon turned slowly and opened his eyes. The room was dark, the only thing illuminating the room being the open door through which Martin had come. Martin was all shadow, spare for the edges. His hair glowed, a fiery halo fit for the angel to save him from his headache, save him from his heartache. He couldn’t quite see Martin’s eyes. He tore his eyes from Martin’s face and looked down at the glass of water Martin was holding. Jon took it gratefully.

“Thank you, Martin,” he mumbled, accepting the pills that Martin placed in his hand. He took the painkillers and downed the whole glass of water. He hated how cold it was. It made his head throb. He handed the glass back to Martin, who set it down on the ground. Jon rolled over so he was facing Martin properly. Rolling hurt. His limbs were buzzing. When did that start? He didn’t know. Everything hurt. He wanted it to stop hurting. It will, soon. Martin gave you medicine. Martin. Martin… That part hurt, too. He needed to stop hurting. He didn’t care much about consequences at the moment, that was a problem for Future Jon.

He flapped his hand at Martin, a mock version of waving him over. “Wh…” Jon reached out and grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging him closer. Martin stumbled, half falling onto the cot. Jon pulled him closer, mumbling something about sleep. Martin was tense, so so tense, unreasonably tense. He should just stop being tense, Jon decided. “Uh…” Jon needed that soft security that was Martin, needed it with an intensity dulled only by the stabbing in his brain. He pulled Martin closer, close enough that they now shared the pillow if only Martin just layed down. He hooked a leg over Martin’s, dragging them closer. He wrapped an arm around Martin’s waist, closer closer closer until Martin was flush against Jon’s chest. He put a hand on the side of Martin’s head, pushing it down until it was finally, finally on the pillow. 

Martin was very, very tense. Jon could feel it. Every last inch of touch was tense. Martin mumbled something about shoes. Jon kicked his own off haphazardly. Martin actually sat up to take them off. Jon immediately missed the contact, and forcibly didn’t think about it. As soon as Martin laid back down, Jon curled up into him, wrapping an arm around his middle and shoving his face in Martin’s chest. It was like holding a very large, very stiff teddy bear. Jon wanted Martin to relax, needed him to relax, so he mumbled something vaguely ridiculous at the man until he laughed. It was an awkward laugh, quieted to save their ears and unpracticed, but it was a laugh. Jon smiled into Martin, and Martin relaxed in turn.

Jon felt the buzzing in his limbs shift and flare, taking over the rest of his body until he was floating in space and tethered to nothing but the man he clung onto. He let himself drift and float until he dropped into sleep.


End file.
